Duchess of Cambridge: the perfect royal consort

Hilary Mantel’s surprising dismissal of the Duchess of Cambridge as synthetic
and shallow has ignited furious debate. Historian Alison Weir argues that
she does a difficult job beautifully and deserves our respect

The Duchess of Cambridge: 'This is a young woman who, far from having no character or personality, has chosen to take an extraordinary route in life and is making a success of it. If that isn’t empowering, what is?'Photo: AFP/Getty Images

According to Shakespeare’s Hamlet, ''There is nothing either good or bad, but thinking makes it so.’’ Being a respected author in a position to influence what people think is a huge privilege, but in the general scale of human affairs does one person’s opinion count for more than others’? There is always another view that may be equally valid.

I have long admired Hilary Mantel’s work, but what was she thinking as she delivered her lecture, entitled “Royal Bodies”, at the British Museum? Her subject, as befits Mantel’s oeuvre, was the power of the monarchy, from the Tudor period to the present day, with a parade of queens and princesses lined up for assessment on the age-old basis of looks and fertility. All well and good, one would think, until she launched, with surprising vigour, into the defenceless Duchess of Cambridge.

“Kate seems to have been selected for her role of princess because she was irreproachable: as painfully thin as anyone could wish, without quirks, without oddities, without the risk of the emergence of character,” Mantel said. “She appears precision-made, machine-made.”

This is a view with which I cannot concur. Such thinking reflects a very modern, post-feminist, literary luvvie view of the role of royal women, and indeed of the institution of monarchy in general.

Hers is a superior view, reflected in her question, ''Is monarchy a suitable institution for a grown-up nation?’’ She says she does not know, but the very wording of the question implies that it isn’t, and that all the thousands (myself included) who thronged to celebrate the royal wedding and the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee are in some way immature.

As for poor Kate, whom tradition denies a voice to respond to criticism, is she really ''a shop window mannequin, with no personality of her own’’? This is a young woman who went to excellent schools, secured a place at Scotland’s oldest university and graduated with a master’s degree in the History of Art. Why, therefore, does Mantel ask, ''What does Kate read? It’s a question.’’ This is a young woman who, far from having no character or personality, has chosen to take an extraordinary route in life and is making a success of it. If that isn’t empowering, what is?

Mantel is correct in assessing the traditional role of a royal wife. Yes, it is to breed heirs, as history shows most graphically. But there is also a ceremonial role, and a charitable one. Queens, princesses and royal duchesses who have shown the gentler face of monarchy have always been popular. Their roles were decorous, symbolic and dynastic, and it is true that not much has changed.

But there is one huge difference between Kate Middleton and the royal brides of past centuries: her marriage was not arranged without her having any say in it. She chose to marry into the institution of monarchy, knowing – how could she not have done, with the example of the late Diana, Princess of Wales, before her? – that she would be expected to play an archaic and often challenging role. That she is doing it to perfection is a tribute to her intelligence and strength of character.

To state that she was ''designed by a committee and built by craftsmen, with a perfect plastic smile and the spindles of her limbs hand-turned and gloss-varnished’’ seems particularly unkind. What shines forth from Kate’s smile is sincerity and pleasure. She is clearly doing what she wanted to do all along, and enjoys doing. The word ''radiant’’ may be hackneyed in royal reportage, but it certainly applies in Kate’s case.

Accusing her of having ''no personality of her own’’ is unfair, given the constraints imposed on her. And surely no one ''selected [her] for her role of princess because she was irreproachable’’. That may have been an issue in Diana’s day, but it certainly isn’t now. Kate met Prince William at university. They were together for eight years before they married, during which time they spent some time apart and lived together.

It is highly unlikely, in the wake of what happened to Diana, that attempts were made to influence William in his choice of bride. This was clearly a marriage of personal choice – a marriage made for love, plainly evident in the interaction and body language of the couple.

No one could realistically suggest, either, that Kate is ''without quirks, without oddities, without the risk of the emergence of character’’. She is a human being like the rest of us, with the usual human frailties. Her character shines forth in her determination not to let those frailties interfere with the role she has taken on. For that, she deserves our respect.

Whether Hilary Mantel likes it or not, both women and men, especially those in the public eye, are defined by what they wear, and they always have been. She cites the examples of the extravagantly dressed Marie Antoinette and Diana, whom others have described as a clothes horse. But royal clothing has always involved far more than looking stunning.

Throughout history, conspicuous display has been the outward manifestation of wealth and power; it was a political tool. In the Tudor period, magnificence was expected of monarchs and those closely related to them. Dress defined rank and was governed by laws restricting the wearing of certain fabrics to royalty and the upper ranks of the aristocracy, reflecting strict demarcations in society itself. In the 18th century, under the ancien regime in France, Marie Antoinette was still expected to dress sumptuously.

Later, since the advent of domesticity in the Victorian monarchy and the modernisation of the royal family since the 1950s, royal clothing has been used to promote the manufacturing and fashion industries. Both Diana and Kate have been flag-bearers for British fashion, immeasurably boosting its profile throughout the world. And Kate, wearing elegant frocks that sell out overnight, has worked wonders for high street fashion too, endorsing the favourite brands of thousands of young women who cannot afford designer clothes.

Young women identify with her. I write as the mother of another Kate of similar age. Their aspirations and pleasures – university, a career, the right man, clothes, holidays, socialising, family – are plainly the same as Kate Middleton’s. There is nothing wrong with being ''a nicely brought up young lady, with 'please’ and 'thank you’ in her vocabulary’’, as Mantel says, and there are many of them, unsung heroines in a world in which traditional values are under siege.

But Kate knows more about courtesy than that. In dressing as ''a shop-window mannequin’’ – although some would put it more generously – she is not only fuelling demand for her outfits as objects of desire, she is also showing respect for her hosts, the people she meets, her own position as wife to the heir to the throne, and the monarchy itself.

She may be ''as painfully thin as anyone could wish’’, but am I being old-fashioned in thinking that this is no one’s business but her own? Were she to emerge from her pregnancy some pounds the heavier and with a fuller figure, the fashionistas would swoop to kill.

Like Marie Antoinette, criticised for dressing simply like a shepherdess, Kate can’t win. It’s bad enough being lambasted for what you wear, but Mantel’s criticism of Kate Middleton goes beyond that: it is symptomatic of the regrettable current trend for saying what you think regardless of whom you hurt or offend. And I imagine that the Duchess is hurt by what Mantel has written, which is why I have felt moved to write this article.

It is true, as Mantel says, that ''cheerful curiosity can easily become cruelty’’. So can very public comments about a young woman who has done nothing to deserve them.